Chapter 12 Phantom #2
“Get me the fucking name,” I tell him.
I disconnect the call and drain my beer, then stalk inside.
Jax and Daisy look up as I enter. “Dad, can we have some ice cream?” Daisy asks.
“Yeah,” I grumble, yanking open the fridge and grabbing another beer. Then it hits me. “Wait, you had dessert after dinner.”
Daisy shrugs one shoulder. “You looked distracted. It was worth a try.”
“You little shit.” I put the beer back in the fridge without opening it. “I’m never so distracted I won’t notice a second dessert.” I come around to the kitchen table and mess up Daisy’s hair.
“Dad!” she squeals, and I drop down into a seat next to her.
“What’s this?” I ask, pointing.
“Jax is a super-good artist,” she says, pointing to the paper.
“Yeah?” I tug the sketchbook that Savage brought along with a bunch of other shit from the house earlier today close so I can get a good look. “Shit, kid.” I scan the panels of pencil drawings. “This is fucking impressive.”
“Dad.” Daisy shakes her head. “You swear too much.”
I snort but take note. “This is super impressive,” I say, echoing what Daisy said a minute ago. “This is good, kid. You got what it takes.”
“You think so?” Jax’s eyes light up at my compliment. “You think I’m good enough to be a tattoo artist?”
I flex my left arm so my bicep swells. I hold his sketchbook up beside the inside of my arm. “Your shit?” I lift a brow at Daisy. “Your stuff is way better than half the stuff I have inked on my body. Look at this.”
I don’t tell Jax how many of my tatts were inked in prison or at parties in the compound by guys who had more balls than talent.
Jax’s grin is so big, I can’t help smiling. “I’ll be your first client, kid. Got plenty of skin left to cover.”
“For real?”
“I’ll be your second client,” Daisy says, taking the notepad back from me.
Getting the kids to bed is a piece of cake. Jax heads to the guest room, and Holly offers to wake him up since he doesn’t have an alarm clock in the room. I kiss my girls goodnight, then knock on the door of the guest room.
“Hi,” Jax says.
I nod at him. “You got what you need, little man? You need lunch money, anything like that?”
He laughs. “No. That’s all settled at school. I’ll just have some juice or something in the morning before we leave.”
I scan the room and notice Jax’s art is spread out over the made bed and his clothes are in piles on the floor, but the piles look pretty organized.
“You’re a great kid,” I tell him.
He looks at me, a funny expression on his face. “Thanks,” he says.
I ruffle his hair and say goodnight. Then I head to my bedroom.
I quietly walk into the bathroom and brush my teeth, then I climb on top of the bed beside Poppy.
I check her temp, but she feels cooler. She groans and rolls over onto her side, scooting her ass toward me.
I have to physically restrain myself from rolling over and sliding a hand along the curves of her thighs, up her ass, and fisting the long, tangled waves of her hair.
I lie flat on my back, pull a pillow over my head, and count backward from a million.
The next morning, I jump in the shower and dress without waking Poppy. I hope all this sleep helps her turn a corner. Not that I’m anxious for her to be healthy enough to leave. In fact, I’m shocked how comfortable I am with her here. With Jax at the kitchen table beside my girls.
I could get used to this.
Taking care of someone. Looking out for her. But this is a new start for me. I’ve got the girls. I’m staying at the house, not in my shitty bunk at the compound.
I could definitely get used to this.
“Five-minute warning,” I say, pointing at the door. “Shoes on. Get your backpacks. You know what to do.”
Jax immediately clears his plate from the table, and I throw some berries and melon onto a plate, grab a couple slices of toast from the stack Daisy made for the kids, and pour a huge glass of orange juice.
“Knock, knock,” I say, nudging open my bedroom door.
Poppy’s eyes flutter open, and she looks at the plate in my hands. “I thought you said you couldn’t cook.” She smiles, and her color actually looks good.
I feel her forehead, and unless I’m totally wrong, she’s broken the fever. I set the plate on the tray and put the juice on the bedside table.
“I put this shit on a plate. I didn’t make it.
” I lean down and kiss the top of her head before I realize what I’m doing.
“Shit, ah… Toast. Daisy. Daisy made it. I’ve got to go.
Taking the kids to school.” I turn to leave before I realize I didn’t ask how she’s feeling.
“You okay? I’ll be back after drop-off.”
She nods. “Sweaty and gross, but I think I’m better.”
“Rest.” I point a finger at her, then close the bedroom door behind me.
I’m dashing down the stairs when my phone buzzes with a text.
Law Man: Good news. Emergency hearing date set. Family court tomorrow at nine.
This is good news, but it’s all happening faster than I expected. I wonder if the break-in at Poppy’s had anything to do with the date being set so fast.
Me: Will Shayla be there?
“Dad! We got to go!”
I slide into my boots and put my phone in my pocket.
I can find out the details later. As much as I want custody of my kids, as much as I want Shayla out of their lives, once the court date is set, the shit’s really going to hit the fucking fan.
And I plan on making sure no one I care about gets caught in Shayla’s crossfire.